


a good boy

by fraldarian



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, M/M, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25405615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraldarian/pseuds/fraldarian
Summary: In which Felix is busy playing video games. Sylvain decides to interrupt.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 130





	a good boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SydneyHorses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyHorses/gifts).



There are a lot of infuriating things about Felix, and perhaps the most is how easy it is for the man to get Sylvain riled. It’s not so much frustration as it is a feeling of envy; Sylvain’s never been able to properly restrain himself, and the mention of sex has nearly always left him pleading in the end. On a good day, he might find a favourable outcome in unwinding Felix. But on most, the man remains quiet, upkept, and that alone is enough to push Sylvain.

It’s also precisely why he’s on his knees now, in front of their apartment couch. It’s a Saturday, but with Felix’s rising popularity in the world of photography and modelling businesses, he’s had his fair share of bookings today. Sylvain had been expecting them to do something together upon Felix’s return home to their flat – perhaps a supper outing, or a walk along the canal. Instead he’d slouched himself on the couch, called takeout for dinner, and left it at that.

“How was your shoot?” Sylvain had asked after Felix’s arrival. There’d been a crease between raven brows, and adamantly his boyfriend had rubbed at worn temples.

“It was fine.” The answer’s clipped, a little short, but it’s nothing Sylvain hasn’t experienced before. Felix busies himself with setting down an expensive-looking camera and tripod set before turning his attention back onto Sylvain. “An idiotic client with stupid requests. Badgered me the entire time.”

Sylvain wants to smooth the curling of a bottom lip, wants to rub between shoulder blades. And he’s about to ask if he can do that, truly, when Felix turns away. It seems, in all retrospect, that his boyfriend has other ideas.

“I think I’ll order us takeout. From that shitty Thai place.” Already Felix is fumbling for his phone, scrolling idly through a DoorDash app. It seems a supper outing is off the table, but Sylvain doesn’t really mind. Felix’s cooking is meagre at best, and more often than not their dinners end up burnt or too spicy for Sylvain’s enjoyment. Neither of them particularly care for Felix’s cooking habits.

Instead Sylvain puts on a smile, coming to stand behind the couch. “That sounds good. I’m sorry about the shoot, by the way. At least you’ll have some extra money coming in.” Felix only sighs in reply, and by that alone, it’s clear how much weariness has settled upon his shoulders.

They don’t talk much, after that. Sylvain doesn’t mind; Felix is one of the only people in his life who he finds subdues that permanent storm inside him. The one that festers like a flitting gnat and tells him he needs to fill the silence with a loud voice. Felix had never been one for idle chatter though, and it feels nice, truly, to be able to relax and recline and let a television fill the void.

Except, Felix is practically ignoring him entirely. And it would be fine, really, if it weren’t for the fact Sylvain has not seen him all day. Instead he’s got a headset on, a mic to his lips, and a controller in both hands. On the screen is a niche fighting game Sylvain doesn’t know much about, but he’s seen Felix play it plenty of times. It’s cute, in a way, to see how invested he gets in it.

So, he does what he’s best at, which is, in all sense of the word, instigation. It’s why a moment later Sylvain’s standing behind the couch, places a hand on Felix’s shoulder and mouths behind his ear lobe.

It’s enough to make him pause the game and mute his mic. “Are you feeling alright.” It doesn't come out as a question, more of a demand that Sylvain’s being forced to answer. It makes him laugh, a hearty chuckle that reverberates through his chest and throat.

“You got home and haven’t even kissed me yet. What’s up with that?” As if to extenuate his words, Sylvain draws out his bottom lip until it’s in the shape of a ridiculous pout.

There’s a sigh, a fond rolling of eyes. “Come here.” And then Felix is twisting, leaning back until he can cup Sylvain’s cheek and press lips to his. It’s not exactly as deep or as languid as Sylvain wanted, but it’s Felix, and any kiss no matter how chaste is worthwhile. Felix is always worthwhile. When they pull away, there’s a crooked tilt to Fe’s lips. “That good enough for you?”

He should stop here. He should _really_ stop here. Felix is busy with whatever the hell he’s doing, and Sylvain could be working on papers for work on Monday. Except he’s not any better, and instead he fixes Felix with a sugar-coated grin. “Would you let me try something?” Felix hasn’t been paying attention to him all afternoon – perhaps this would grab his pretty eyes and focus them on Sylvain.

“And what would that be.” Once again, it presents itself as a statement. Almost nothing was a question when it came to the blunt mouth that belonged to Felix.

In response comes a hum, one that has Felix quirking a curved brow. “Could I go down on you? While you play?” That sweet honeyed smile turns shit-eating. “It would level the playing field. Considering I fucked your mouth in my office.”

The look he’s given is downright vicious, and a second later Felix is setting his mic back up. “Well? Show me what you got. Get to work.”

Several minutes later, and Sylvain’s on his knees. That’s how he’s found himself here now, with the unzipping of trousers and a swollen girth in his hand. The crown of Felix’s length is staring mockingly back at him, and Sylvain leans forward to let it slap lewdly against the flat of his tongue.

The immediate reaction Sylvain gets is more than a little ego-boosting. Felix muffles a hiss, lets his thumbs go back to mashing uselessly against multi-coloured buttons. A moment later and Sylvain mouths at a smooth head.

“Felix? Are you alright?” The voice that cracks through the headset has Sylvain looking up in surprise. He’d almost forgotten that others were on the line. Felix clearly hasn’t.

“Sorry. Busy with something else. Let’s carry on.” A second later and there are hips snapping up without warning, a shirt riding up Fe’s chest, and a cock hilting itself in Sylvain’s mouth.

Immediately he gags, lewd and wet and obnoxiously loud.

“What was that? Are you sure you’re alright?” The voice sounds worried, a little too much so, and it bothers Sylvain. He wants to grab the headset, tell them to shut up and leave him in peace to finish what he’s started.

Sylvain’s got a pair of lips around a cock and a curled tongue around its girth when Felix speaks up.

“I’m sorry about the noise. My dog is rather rambunctious today.” Immediately Sylvain’s head is jerking up, and at any other time he might have protested if not for the half-lidded expression Felix now wore. His boyfriend’s slouched back against the couch, a leg hooked around a freckled shoulder that draws Sylvain even closer. If that wasn’t enough to elicit a whine from Sylvain, the way a scarred hand dips down to grab firmly at auburn locks reinstates otherwise.

There are voices back on the other end. They’re like static, crackling through the headset, barely audible for Sylvain to hear while Felix’s hips are idly rocking into his mouth. “Oh! You never told anyone you had a dog. What breed are they?”

The laughter that follows feigns itself as amusement, but Sylvain hears the mockery behind its front. It’s placed there like a cocked gun, meant entirely for Sylvain. “He’s a Redbone Coonhound. One of those ones from down south. Good at tracking game.”

Sylvain’s about to slide off with a lewd _pop_ and protest when Felix wordlessly advises against it. His hips gyrate up, hilting himself inside Sylvain until there’s a squelch and a gag and Sylvain feels spit dribble upon his chin. When Felix releases his hold, his face is flushed, lips parted in what looks like the beginnings of a wrecked moan.

“Oh! He sounds like a handsome boy. Can you tell him he’s good?” Immediately Sylvain’s stiffening at fizzing words, and Felix senses it, because the smirk he offers Sylvain melts his insides like liquid metal and causes his erection to bulge painfully against restricting trousers.

Felix pauses his game, sets the controller down to the side. “Of course I can.” A hand skirts along Sylvain’s hollowed cheek, cups his chin and bites his own lip. Because Sylvain’s slowly bobbing his head, and in turn Felix can feel a hardened length push up against the muscles of his throat. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

The question is more than enough to elicit a choked groan. Immediately Felix is unpausing his game, lets the sounds of the main menu block out most of his doings. In his head, he tells Felix that yes, he’s good. Words don’t need to be passed for Felix to get the message; amber eyes pick up the minute shift in Sylvain’s gaze.

“I think he likes being called a good boy.” Felix is no longer looking at Sylvain, instead casts his eyes to the television stand as he starts a new round. “Should I give him a treat after this?”

The question is a double-loaded barrel, and both of them know it. Immediately Sylvain redoubles his efforts, wraps a large hand around a thick base and looks up through lashes as he laps his tongue along a slickened cock.

Sylvain catches the moment Felix shifts his hand upwards to parted lips, watches greedily as teeth bite down on soft flesh to stifle a moan. It’s somehow titillating, and immediately his free hand is going down to palm at the front of his trousers. The article of clothing does little to hide his indecency.

“Absolutely! Every good boy deserves a treat.” The voice that answers is so syrupy sweet that Sylvain briefly wonders how Felix puts up with these people. It’s a question for another time and place though, not when he’s got a mouth stuffed full and an erection settled between broad thighs.

There’s a hum that lingers a second too long in the air to be anything but malicious. “Yeah. You’re right.” And it’s why, as soon as he wins his next round of Streetfighter, Felix shuts off the console. “Good game. I need to go now.” His voice sounds strained, and a wave of satisfaction runs through Sylvain as he looks up to a scattering of rose petals along Felix’s cheeks.

A second later there are hands on him, and a sultry groan that has Sylvain’s gut twisting. “ _Fuck_ you.” Felix’s voice sounds positively wrecked, as if it’s been fucked raw. “Do you know how hard that was? Sitting there while that mouth of yours was on me?”

Sylvain only hums in response, lets it reverberate around Felix’s length. Immediately there are hands flying to his hair, and a second later Felix is doubling forward until the hem of his shirt tickles Sylvain’s skin.

“Syl _vain –_ ” There’s a hiss, and Felix grits his teeth. His boyfriend’s hips jut forward, causes Sylvain to press the flat of a tongue against a velvet ridge, and that’s seemingly all it takes. Because a second later there’s a choked off moan, and then Felix is coming.

It’s been a while. But the familiar warmth still coats his tongue, bitter and overly salty, and before Sylvain knows it, he’s swallowing. A minute later he’s pulling off with a gasp, and by the way Felix looks, Sylvain is sure he looks worse tenfold. “Maybe you should have put down the game sooner.” His voice is little more than a croak, and already there’s an ache settling in his jaw. But it’s a good hurt, one that gives him a selfish satisfaction when he sees a softening cock and a panting Felix.

“Cock didn’t shut you up?” Felix suddenly growls, sharp-edged and cold like the metal of a fined dagger. “The lip on you.” But a thumb comes down regardless, wipes away the spend that still lingers on the corner of Sylvain’s mouth and cleans up the spit that’s come to coat his chin. The look in Felix’s eyes is not one of annoyance, but fond tenderness.

Sylvain shivers, not just from his boyfriend’s words, but from the wordless gesture of helping him. It’s one of the things Sylvain loves about Felix; he loves every part, from his quips and antics to the way Felix reads to him at night. But he also loves their sex, because it’s something that feels permanent. It doesn’t matter what it is. Felix will still always have Sylvain’s best interests in mind. So instead, he opens his mouth and says this: “You could have fucked me.”

It must have been something along the lines of what Felix was expecting, because a second later he’s beckoning Sylvain to sit on his bared lap. “I could have. But I like seeing you get all riled.” There’s a smirk, the jangling of a belt as Sylvain lets Felix’s hands undo trousers. “I bet you would have liked that. Me, bending you over the couch. You’re insatiable.”

The open-mouthed moan that follows next is almost pitiful, but who can blame Sylvain? It’s hard to grasp any sort of thoughts at all when there’s a solid hand gripping a swollen base and a pair of amber eyes that stare directly into him. “Yeah. I would have.” There’s another whimper from Sylvain as the broad padding of a thumb moves circles over his slit. “Would have been so good for you, Fe. Would have let you stuff me whole.”

Felix is speaking, and Sylvain is coming. “Maybe next time I’ll fuck you while I’m playing. I’ll let them hear your pretty little moans.” It coats Felix’s hand, drips onto his lap beneath. But his boyfriend doesn’t mind, just hums in recognition and what seems like a pleased gloating.

Sylvain curls forward, rests a head of thick locks against Felix’s shoulder. Both of them are breathing hard, and it feels nice, to sit here and know that Felix won’t be leaving as soon as Sylvain gets up. Instead his boyfriend’s clean hand rises, rests on the nape of his neck. The touch grounds Sylvain. “You should.” And then, a moment later, he croaks out: “Was I good?”

The answering smile is brighter than the spring sun outside. “Yeah. You did good.”

**Author's Note:**

> half of this was written at 2 am when i was in a weird stupor. anyways, hope you enjoyed. you can find me on twitter @fraldarian :)


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